


my favorite sound

by seb



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Overstimulation, Restraints
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seb/pseuds/seb
Summary: Damen and Laurent try something new. Laurent probably won't admit he likes it.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	my favorite sound

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this shortly after reading Captive Prince and just found it again and my heart nutted at my own writing. Enjoy!

Laurent fidgets, legs twitching and hands clenching into fists before relaxing again. It’s all he can do, anyway. His hands are bound to either post of the bed, crisscrossed above his head; legs held captive around the hips of his lover, who is currently dawdling uselessly.

“Damen,” Laurent spits, curt. “Get on with it. We don’t have all day.”

Damen hums, rubbing up and down Laurent’s thighs. He bends forward, kissing the dead center of Laurent’s chest with intent. Laurent breathes deep, leaning his head back to stare at the canopy and try to appear unaffected.

In reality, the attention is a little much. He is bound and spread, unable to protect himself against the advances of the brunet above him. He is being doted on, treated with care and kindness, adorned with kisses and touches that leave gooseflesh in their wake. There is no reason for his heart to pound so boldly, and yet; he can feel his pulse in his ears, in his rousing cock. His body betrays him, he grouses.

“We do,” Damen says finally, lips dragging on Laurent’s skin with every word. His voice rumbles, deep velvet making Laurent blush. “Have all day,” he continues, blinking languidly up at Laurent. “And all night, and every day after that.”

“There are things I must _do_ aside from bed with you,” Laurent huffs, squirming in Damen’s grip.

“I’m aware, Your Majesty,” Damen says, simple, but it sends a shudder up Laurent’s spine. He pulls on his bonds, trying to escape from the attention. “Oh?” Damen says, perking up from his lazy perch on Laurent’s chest. “Do you like that? _Your Majesty_?”

“Shut up,” Laurent says, blush crawling across his jaw and up to his ears. “Do what you wish to do and be done with it, I don’t have time for these games.”

“Oh, I wish to do a lot of things,” Damen murmurs, punctuating the loaded statement with a kiss. “Where shall I start?”

“Here,” Laurent says, planting the heel of his foot into Damen’s side. Damen barely flinches, just lets out a soft _oof_ at the impact, then drags his hand down Laurent’s leg, over blond-haired thigh and calf until he can grasp his ankle. He lifts Laurent’s leg, stretches it out straight over his shoulder until he can press his lips to his ankle, above the cuff of his hand. Laurent huffs, attempting to pull away from the hold Damen has on him— no luck. Damen trails his puckered lips excruciatingly slow up his leg, from ankle to calf, calf to shin, shin to knee, knee to thigh, inwards and upwards, dragging along the crease of leg meeting hip. It’s slow, deliberate, and intense; Laurent curls his leg around Damen’s neck as he comes closer, closer still. 

Damen grins, pressing a kiss at the base of his cock. Laurent shudders, arching his back off the bed minutely— but Damen catches every movement, lifts him up and guides him back down, drinks it in and relishes in it.

“Fuck, Damen, just—” Laurent sighs, glaring down at him.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Damen says, and leans away entirely, taking his warmth with him. Laurent makes a strangled noise of loss disguised as a huff of annoyance. Damen takes it in stride, settling properly above Laurent, body looming over him like a statue in the fading light of the afternoon. He ducks down again, presses a kiss to Laurent’s shoulder and says, “You’ll come from my tongue or not at all, and it’s going nowhere near your cock.”

Laurent blinks, unseeing, unthinking, until Damen’s tongue laves over the sharp edge of his collarbone. He jerks in his restraints, allowing himself two curled fists and eyes squeezed shut. There’s a puff of hot air on his chest— laughter. Damen has the nerve to laugh at him.

“That means,” Laurent starts, regretting the words as they leave his mouth. “You’ll have to make me come at all.” A challenge.

Damen does not respond. Instead, he drags his lips down Laurent’s collarbone, licks at it once, then bites down, hard. It punches the air out of Laurent’s chest, makes him see stars behind closed eyelids. Blunt fingernails dig into Laurent’s waist, pulling him closer to Damen’s body. The heat between them is thick, the tension strung taut like the twine holding Laurent’s wrists. Damen takes his time, kissing and sucking at Laurent’s skin until he’s sure he’s going to bruise— and that’s just what the man wants, isn’t it? He wants to mark Laurent as his where no one can him but see, wants to claim him, fuck him, knowing no one else will or can.

His thoughts crash back down to the situation at hand when Damen envelopes a nipple with his tongue. It’s warm, wet; a constant undulation against his sensitive flesh. He is gentle but unrelenting in the same instant, careful not to bite but instead taking his time tonguing at it, sucking it until it hurts, oversensitive. Laurent twitches, legs tight around Damen’s hips as he keeps his mouth firmly shut and lets the sensations wash over him, wave after wave. 

Hell is all too close, a place Laurent knows well, he thinks. Damen has switched to his other nipple, giving it similar treatment. His hands have planted themselves at Laurent’s sides, and thank the heavens for that. Small victories. He doesn’t know what he’d do with Damen’s big, warm hands on him, sliding down his sides to his thighs, spreading him apart—

Laurent sighs, turning his head to the side. Tactical error number one. Damen abandons his nipples, letting the air do the work for him and keep their intrigue intact, while he pays tribute to Laurent’s neck. It is unmarked, this week. Today. Damen makes work of that fact, pressing light kisses up the column of his neck until he reaches his jaw, then back down, across to the other side. Laurent shamefully turns his head to aid him, basking in the attention while also drowning in it. His flush is most likely well down his chest by now and there’s no chance of controlling or stopping it. Especially not when Damen bites.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Laurent grits out, tensing up instinctively. Damen has taken the meat of his shoulder between his teeth, biting just hard enough not to break skin, but surely to bruise. He does not stop at one. Nor two, nor three, climbing up Laurent’s neck, gentler with his teeth as he goes but less kind with his tongue. A wrench at his bonds get him a suck on his neck in turn, and Laurent can feel the bruises forming beneath his lover’s mouth. “They’re going— to _show_ —”

A puff of laughter before it falls into place. This is what Damen wants. To love him— make love to him, mark him, have him wholly and completely; and to show him off. To tell the entire kingdom, the whole world who Laurent brings to bed at night, who holds him and fusses over him and wrenches his way inside Laurent’s trap-filled mind, avoiding the pitfalls and coming close like a lover does, to soothe the wounds inflicted from his own journey inside. He wants his love to bloom on Laurent’s skin, a reminder in the morning and the days before they fade and are eventually replaced. He wants Laurent, simply.

Laurent is suddenly very, _very_ close. He tenses around Damen, legs trapping his hips, forcing him closer to the blond. Tactical error number two. Damen grinds his cock against Laurent’s thigh, groaning against the skin of his neck as he kisses it. He reaches up, behind Laurent’s ear; places another kiss. Laurent can’t control the whine that slips past his lips.

He clamps down on it immediately, but it’s too late. Damen parts from his neck, looking down adoringly at him. Laurent is forced to look into his eyes like has any chance of winning the challenge he’s facing, unable to hide behind thrown arms. Tactical error number three. Damen is gorgeous, lips swollen from their ministrations on Laurent’s skin, eyes wide with wonder, joy. What a foolish look to have on his face while bedding someone. Laurent tells him so.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy you?” Damen questions, leaning back down to take Laurent’s earlobe between his teeth and nibble gently. Laurent shivers, shoulders wriggling, begging to be free. “Am I not allowed to show how pleasant it is to have you in this bed beneath me?” He punctuates this with a grind of his cock against Laurent’s thigh once more, closer to the crease connecting leg and torso.

“Not,” Laurent says, forcing his eyes upwards, “while looking like that.”

“Ah,” Damen says, something mischievous in his eyes. “Maybe we need a blindfold, then.”

Laurent rolls his eyes as dramatically as possible, to get his point across. Damen plants a soft kiss to his nose, startling him. Then he goes right back to Laurent’s neck. 

He speeds up now, likely impatient. Tonguing, biting, sucking; a constant rhythm of sensation bombarding Laurent’s senses. He closes his eyes against it but just feels it more intensely. It crowds his mind, makes him think of little else but the pressure against his pulsepoint and the hands grasping his waist once more. It’s a gentle, warm place, and Laurent stays there, tethered only by Damen’s pleasured sounds. Damen and all his loyalty, his faith, his forgiveness. His courage and compassion. His bold and brazen actions, his lineless plans. Damen. A beautiful name, a beautiful man.

“Laurent,” Damen says softly, grazing his conscience. He wants attention. Laurent gives it to him, a low grunt and toss of his head. “Laurent,” a little gravely.

“Can I assist you in some way?” Laurent says, blinking until the scene before him is clear: Damen, sat up between his legs. Laurent has still exhibited an immense amount of self control in that he has not come, but his shaking legs tell both of them that he is close. He sighs, loosening his hold around Damen’s waist. “I was enjoying myself.”

Damen brushes his fringe back from his forehead, gazing down at him with something akin to worry in his eyes. “I lost you,” he says, caressing Laurent’s jaw. “You wandered off for a moment, there.”

“You haven’t made me come,” Laurent redirects, pressing his foot to Damen’s side. Damen huffs, placing his hand on Laurent’s chest.

“Do you want to?”

Laurent blinks, taken aback. _Does_ he want to? He hasn’t really thought about it. He was feeling fine with Damen’s mouth and nothing else in the world. If he could, he’d cup Damen’s face, bring him closer, kiss him. Let Damen take pleasure out of him— that’s what gives him pleasure. Seeing Damen overcome just by touching him, no reciprocation needed. 

“Yes,” Laurent says after a quick moment of thought. Damen nods, leaning to kiss where his heart thuds against his chest, then pays tribute to his nipples again.

They’re sore, abused by Damen’s prior mouthings. His body is strung up, ready to burst come the right movement, the perfect touch. Laurent won’t let it happen. He tenses as Damen seals his mouth over his nipple, lets out a low moan at the oversensitivity. It’s just on the verge of painful, like a mould that pleasure is poured into. It hurts, just a little, but it’s good; the sharp scrape of Damen’s teeth on his chest, hands going against the hairs on his thighs, his abdomen, dragging up painfully slow.

Damen drags his mouth down, reaches his navel. Dips his tongue in filthily, tugs at the skin with his teeth. Laurent groans and gasps, cool air hitting his heated skin that Damen has just conquered, inch by inch. It makes no difference. His will is as strong as steel. Damen huffs.

He huffs and climbs back up Laurent’s body, taking his lips, his mouth. Shoving his tongue inside obscenely, like they’re fucking in a new light. Laurent whimpers, pulls on his bonds. “Come, damn it,” Damen says; and well, when you ask so nicely.

Laurent comes. His brain is wiped clean, blissfully unaware of his surroundings for minutes, maybe hours. He shakes apart, vaguely aware of being able to press his arms to his chest as he moans helplessly, overwrought by drawn-out pleasure. His legs hold tight to the solid weight between them, and he hopes his release is splattered somewhere on Damen’s body; some evidence of what he’s done.

His arms are being pulled away from him. That is entirely unacceptable, and he fights against it. Damen tsks, and something cool and wet is pressed to his skin, making Laurent hiss unpleasantly. Damen coos out an apology but continues nonetheless, holding Laurent’s arms out to be cleaned.

“Mm,” Laurent hums, unwilling to open his eyes. “Damen,” he says.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Damen responds, grin in his words. Laurent opens his eyes, looks at Damen with a washcloth in hand, gleaming with sweat in the candlelight. A sight to behold and to be held by. Laurent reaches out with tired arms and Damen goes, nuzzling his sore, bruised neck, pressing light kisses along it. 

Laurent moans, bringing his legs up around Damen’s hips, and in a preconceived decision, says: “Fuck me.”

Damen freezes, then leans up and freezes again, staring down at Laurent. “But—”

“Fuck me,” Laurent says again, searching Damen’s face for dissent. He finds none. “I want to feel you come inside me. Fuck me."

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to leave off on a cliff-hanger, I haven't actually written the rest yet... but this NEEDED TO BE POSTED, YOU SEE- YOU UNDERSTAND, RIGHT?
> 
> Find me at asmrpit on Twitter!


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